


Cocktails and Ivory Keys

by FollowTheFirefly



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Partially inspired by the song "Piano Man" or whatever its called, Piano Bar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FollowTheFirefly/pseuds/FollowTheFirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Courfeyrac is a bartender and finds himself falling for the bar's pianist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cocktails and Ivory Keys

**Author's Note:**

> Good god, I need to find a better summary.
> 
> It's been ages since I wrote for Les Mis and this is the last pairing I thought I'd write for, but I've had the idea for this in my head for ages and I thought I should actually write it for a change. Updates will be slow since I'm working full time, but I'm making notes on where I want the story to go, so I shouldn't hit writer's block for a little while.

It all seemed like the setting of a Billy Joel song. The clinking of glasses of alcohol touching each other as they slid down the counter, the smoke cloud hovering over the room, the notes of the piano echoing across the bar. It really was a pleasant atmosphere, the perfect place for a stressed individual to relax and forget the troubles of the world.

Too bad Courfeyrac had to work.

Not that he minded working at the bar. It was the best job he’d had, actually. But there were times when he wished that he could join the crowd and take it easy for a bit.

Fortunately, tonight was looking to be one of the calmer nights, which was greatly appreciated by the staff after the rowdy weekend they’d had. Some of the regulars had wandered in and took their usual seats across the room. Courfeyrac didn’t even have to ask for their orders and soon found himself carrying the drinks on a tray to one of them: an older man looking to be in his sixties reading a rather battered book.

“The usual tonight, Jean?” Courfeyrac set the glass of bourbon in front of the man.

The man glanced up at Courfeyrac, as if he hadn’t expected to see him standing in front of him, and said, “Maybe I really do come here too much if you’ve memorized my order.”

“It’s a popular one around here,” Courfeyrac said with a nod before he continued. “Any problems with the library lately?”

“Oh, the usual affairs,” Jean leaned his elbow on the table, drumming his fingers against the glass in his hand. “There are so many obstacles when running a library these days. 

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Courfeyrac shifted on his feet, tucking the empty tray under his arm.

“It is, but it’s quite rewarding just the same.” The man took a drink from his glass before saying, “So who’s on the lineup tonight?”

“Marie and Alexander, as usual,” Courfeyrac said as he tried to remember the list of the pianists scheduled to play that evening. “And a couple of new faces.”

“Well, I hope they’ll do well with this tough crowd,” Jean said as he looked over the rest of the bar.

Courfeyrac nodded, patting the old man on the shoulder, and said, “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Oh yes, I don’t want to keep you,” Jean said apologetically. “Eva was dashing around the place so fast I thought she was on roller skates. It seems to be a popular place.” He looked up at Courfeyrac before he said, “Or maybe they’ve understaffed you again?”

“Spot on,” Courfeyrac nodded before he turned and headed back to the bar, leaving Jean to read his book. 

“Phil’s called out again,” said a girl around Courfeyrac’s age from the sink where she stood washing dishes, soap bubbles coming up to her elbows.

“He’ll be sacked any day now,” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes as he swung open the bar door and walked behind the counter. He looked over at the register and saw a large mound of sticky notes covered with what appeared to be drink orders. He looked back at the girl and said, “Hey, Eva, you know better than this.”

“Not me,” Eva said defensively, stacking some wine glasses up to dry. “That’s all the new guy’s fault.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, this really doesn’t seem like its your handwriting,” Courfeyrac shifted through the orders. “But doesn’t he know where they go? And how old are these? I thought his shift ended two hours ago?”

“It did,” Eva nodded. 

“Christ,” Courfeyrac sighed. “Okay, I’ll get to work on these.” He tried to sort the orders by the order they came, though he had to admit that he had no clue what order they should be in. “This is ridiculous.”

“I still think you should be training him, Courf,” Eva said, glancing back at him.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Courfeyrac set the semi-organized stack of sticky notes back on the counter.

“Because you’ve been here longer than any of us?” Eva said as the quiet of the room was broken by the sounds of a piano playing.

“It’s only been five years.” Courfeyrac reached for some glasses under the counter. “And you know that time doesn’t equate to skill strength or whatever. You get what I’m saying, right?”

“Yes and yes.” Eva finished with the dishes and drained the soapy water from the sink. “But you’re the one who taught me all of the basics here. Don’t start selling yourself short.”

“Hey, want to give me a hand with these?” Courfeyrac gestured to the large stack of orders.

“Yeah, I’ll split ‘em,” Eva said as she finished drying her hands. She peered over Courfeyrac’s shoulder, trying to see what he was making. “Seriously? Chardonnay with an olive?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Courfeyrac had to admit that he was confused by the order as well.

“Must be Ella’s order.” Eva tossed the towel down on the counter and took some of the stack of post-it notes. “I swear, I think she’s losing it.”

“Well, since her husband died…” Courfeyrac grabbed a bottle of Coke and poured the contents into a glass of rum before placing it on the drink tray next to him.

“He died almost twenty years ago,” Eva pointed out.

“You guys need any help?” A younger man opened the swinging door and walked behind the bar.

“Yeah, tell Adam to take proper orders when he comes in tomorrow.” Courfeyrac set the rum and Coke next to the wine glass on the tray. 

“He messed up again?” the boy’s dark eyes narrowed as his hands fell to his hips. 

“Take a look at these,” Eva said as she passed her stack of orders to the boy, who looked over them with a suspicious eye.

“Is that word ‘tomato’ or ‘artichoke’?” he asked as he squinted that the paper.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Eva shrugged.

“But neither of them belong in drinks, that’s for sure,” Courfeyrac said. “Unless that’s a food order.”

“But it says ‘Cosmo with a’…” the boy paused. “Well, whatever the hell that word is.”

“So he probably screwed up. Again,” Eva sighed in frustration. She scooped some ice out of a bucket next to Courfeyrac and dumped it into a glass in front of her.

“Well, I’ll talk to him and get to work on these food orders,” the boy said, ducking behind Courfeyrac and Eva as he grabbed a large stack of orders from the kitchen window.

“Thanks, Mark,” Eva called after him before she turned to Courfeyrac and said, “Thank god we have him tonight.”

“That’s for sure,” Courfeyrac was already working on the next order of drinks. “Hey, do you know anything about the players tonight?”

“Nope.” Eva shook her head. “Carol, the one playing now, was turned down by most of the other bars.”

“I can see why,” Courfeyrac observed. “How can anyone be that tone deaf?”

“To be honest, I don’t really know why boss man let her come on tonight.” Eva reached for some wine glasses behind her as the song in the background faded to a much slower song. She glanced over at the pianist, who sounded like she was being tortured with thumbscrews as she sang, and said “What is this, some sort of dirge?”

“Like a piano bar is a place for dirges,” Courfeyrac smirked. “But yeah, this is just awful.” He decided to change the subject. “Anything about the new guy?”

“The pianist you mean?” Eva asked. “No, nothing.”

“You mean you haven’t done any snooping yet?” Courfeyrac grinned at her, knowing Eva did her research on the players.

“You know me so well,” Eva laughed.

“That I do,” Courfeyrac nodded as he finished the last of his orders and set it down on the crowded drink tray.

“Were you hoping that I’d do some boyfriend scouting for you?” Eva seemed to know what sort of guys he was interested in and even went so far as to set up blind dates for him, even though most of them never worked out.

“Really, Eva, I’m fine.” Courfeyrac leaned back against the wall as he watched Carol finish the dirge-like song and walk off the stage, carrying her sheet music under her arm. “Good god, I thought it would never end.”

“Okay, I’m all caught up.” Eva stepped back and looked at her own drink tray with satisfaction. 

“It’s a rare day for us to have a breather like this,” Eva said. “I say we take advantage of this.”

“But shouldn’t someone go take these orders out?” Courfeyrac suggested. “Unless Pierre is here tonight?”

“Yeah, he jumped back to the kitchen to get caught up, but he said he’ll be back out.” Eva crossed her arms in front of her chest. “With Mark back there, it’ll be a lot easier.”

“It’s a good thing we can switch jobs and stuff like that,” Courfeyrac said. “It probably wouldn’t work in another place.”

“Hey, Courf, there’s the new guy.” Eva gestured towards a taller man approaching the piano, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder and large folder of sheet music in his hand. “I’ve heard he’s pretty new to this sort of thing.”

“So you did get to do some snooping,” Courfeyrac smiled. 

“Not as much as I usually do,” Eva shrugged. “I’m ashamed at how little research I did on this one.”

“Courf, table seven’s order is done,” Mark called from the kitchen. “Pierre’s stuck here for a while, so can you take it out?”

“Sure thing,” Courfeyrac said as he picked up the tray from the kitchen window, grabbing the right drink from his tray, and made his way out to the main room.

It didn’t take long to find table seven, even with the growing cloud of smoke in the room. It was getting to be a bit too much, Courfeyrac noticed, making a mental note to open one of the windows later.

After ducking past an older man nursing a brandy, Courfeyrac reached table seven.

“How’s the drink, Ella?” Courfeyrac set the plate of chicken fingers and mozzarella sticks down in front of her.

“Quite lovely,” Ella said with a nod, graying strands of hair falling down into her face.

“Did you need anything else or were you okay?” Courfeyrac placed the wine glass down next to the mozzarella sticks. 

She appeared not to have heard him. She was looking at the man playing the piano.

“Such lovely music tonight,” Ella said, more to herself than to Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac really couldn’t say that he agreed with her. If the first pianist was any sort of indication to what the night would hold, then they were all doomed.

But as he listened to the piano now, he found himself thinking that maybe Ella had a point. The man certainly wasn’t the best singer he’d heard, but he was far from the worst. If anything, he sounded nervous, like this was the first time he’d performed in front of a large group of people. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about the way this man played the piano that had Courfeyrac fascinated. 

“Are you all right, my hear?”

Apparently Courfeyrac had been lost in his thoughts for a bit too long. He looked back at Ella and found the old woman giving him a very peculiar look.

“Oh yes, I’m fine, Ella,” Courfeyrac assured her. “I’d better get back to the bar.”

Before she could respond, Courfeyrac turned around and headed back to the bar area, slipping past the patrons carrying drinks back to their tables.

“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Eva said to Courfeyrac as she slid some drinks down the counter. 

“He’s not bad,” Courfeyrac shrugged. 

“Then why do you keep staring at him?” Eva said with a sly smile on her face. 

“Oh, come on,” Courfeyrac sighed in exasperation.

“You’re more of an open book than you’d like to admit.” Eva returned to the sink to wash some more dishes that had appeared in Courfeyrac’s absence. 

“Okay, I’ll admit that he’s cute,” Courfeyrac knew that he’d been beaten.

“Going to ask him out?” Eva glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“What?” Courfeyrac could feel his face growing hot.

“It wouldn’t hurt, you know.” Eva shrugged, returning to the dishes at the sink.

“Eva, I’ve never even met the guy,” Courfeyrac retorted. “And he could be straight, for all I know.”

“I’m really not getting that sort of vibe from him,” Eva said. “I’ve been wrong before, but I’m not sure that I’m wrong about this.”

He sighed and joined Eva at the sink, taking the drying towel from the counter and working on finishing the dishes that she’d washed. 

“Your gaydar isn’t all that spectacular, my dear.”

“Better than yours,” Eva shot back, though he knew that she was teasing him.

“Touché,” Courfeyrac grimaced.

“But seriously, you could at least talk to him.” Eva was, for once, being completely serious. “The worst he could say is no. And if nothing else, you can get another friend, right?”

“Okay, if he comes back, I’ll talk to him, okay?” Courfeyrac said. “It’s too crazy for me to make any moves or anything tonight.”

Eva frowned, but relented.

“Okay, you’ve got a deal.”


End file.
